


Coming Home

by ArgentLives



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Episode Related, Episode Tag, F/M, Post-Episode: s02e14 Escape from Earth-2, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-12 22:33:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7951780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgentLives/pseuds/ArgentLives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After returning from an Earth where he and Iris are already married, Barry is, to put it nicely, completely and utterly fucked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this after the Earth-2 episode in speculation of how this reuninion would go but then asshole fake-Jay had to go and "die" and ruin everything

The second he and Cisco come back through the breach, the first thing he does is hug Joe until his arms hurt. And this Joe – his Joe – doesn’t pull away, doesn’t look at him with that stinging dislike, isn’t _dead_. This Joe hugs him back, warm and familiar, until Barry’s ready to let go. When he finally does, he knows he must look a mess and he’s very definitely crying, but Joe just claps a hand on his shoulder and smiles like he understands. 

“It’s good to have you back, son,” he says as Barry not-so-discreetly rubs under his eyes, and it’s genuine as ever, not a hint of animosity behind it at all, and Barry gives up on trying to wipe away his tears because they’re back again full force.

Caitlin is standing nearby with an armful of Cisco and a baffled look on her face, her hair wonderfully, blessedly brown, and Barry walks right up to them and wraps his arms around them both, pulling them close and knocking their heads together. He takes a deep, shaky breath, and shoots Cisco a teary-eyed smile that Cisco returns, wobbly but with palpable relief because he _knows_ , and they made it, and they’re okay, a little beaten and bruised but ultimately victorious, and Caitlin is still their Caitlin.

“What, saving the best for last?” a voice calls from over his shoulder, accompanied by that musical laugh he loves so much – God, he still _loves, w_ ho the fuck was he ever kidding? – and he freezes. Caitlin pats him on the back before she steps away from their embrace and Cisco shoots him a knowing look and makes his best sympathetic face (which honestly looks more amused than anything), knowing full well why Barry had determinedly avoided looking further than two feet in front of him the second he saw her standing there just off to the side, watching them come through the breach. He is so not ready for this, not now, not yet, not when less than twenty four hours ago she was sort of his wife, and he’d foolishly let himself indulge in the fantasy of being her husband. 

 _Sooooo_ not ready.

“Hey, Iris, uh–hey,” he stammers, turning to face her, flipping Cisco off behind his back when he hears his friend snicker. He doesn’t even have time to blink before she’s launching herself into his arms, and his brain goes alarmingly numb. His arms still come up to catch her, wrapping around her like muscle-memory, but the only thing he can process other than the sudden rushing sound in his ears is the feeling of her pressed up against him because now he _knows_ what every inch of her feels like and it’s just –  _too much_.

“You came back,” she whispers, holding him tight, and he can feel her breath against his neck. He wonders if she realizes just how fast his heart is beating right now, even quicker than its usual sprint. If she can feel it trying to hammer its way out of his chest. 

“Told you I would,” he forces a laugh, his voice little more than a squeak. Iris must sense something’s off about him, something too-tense in the way he hugs her back and too-strained in the way he’s talking, because she let’s go of him sooner than she normally would. She doesn’t bother moving back though, searching his face like it’ll give her the explanation she’s looking for, which – to be fair, it probably could. And then without warning – and really, he’s going to start needing warnings now, Jesus Christ – her hands are cupping her face, softer and without the callouses of her Earth 2 counterpart but certainly just as warm. It’s not technically unusual for them; they’ve always been affectionate as best friends, and this gesture is nothing they haven’t done before on this earth, but all he can think of is the last time Iris (a different Iris, sure, but still Iris) held his face like this, she’d been about to kiss him.

“Are you feeling okay?” she asks with genuine concern, a little frown tugging at her lips, and all he can think of are her hands on his face, and the fact that she’s standing so close, and – he wants to kiss her, so much, so badly. It’s even worse than remembering the timeline he’d left behind last year, the taste of her still on his lips after he’d traveled back in time and erased any possibility of it, because now he knows what it’s like to kiss her without hesitation, to be able to do it wherever and whenever and for her to be _his_ (his _wife_!) and for him to be wholly hers. He’s no stranger to the latter half of that equation, really, but –

He’s fucked. He’s so fucked. _Fuuuuuuck._

“Fine, I’m fine,” he finally manages, his throat so remarkably dry it’s a wonder he can even speak. “Just…happy to see you, you know?. I – it’s good to be home.”

The frown is gone within seconds, replaced by that affectionate smile that looks far too much like the one the one he’d felt curling against his lips not long ago, and he can’t bring himself to look her in the eye because he’s sort of afraid of what he’ll find there, doesn’t trust himself not to do anything stupid if he recognizes something that she might not even realize yet herself in her gaze. Because now he knows how Iris looks when she’s looking at him as more than just a friend, and he’s suddenly struck dumb by the fact that there’d been a reason he’d been so taken off guard when Detective West had cornered him like she had – he’d seen that look before, from this Iris, his Iris, but hadn’t realized… 

Now he knows what it _means_. 

“I’m glad you’re home too,” she says, quickly bringing her hands down from his face like she’d forgotten they were even there, and Barry wonders if she realizes he’s not really just talking about Earth 1. He finally lets out the breath he’s been holding as she takes a step back, willing himself not to look at her lips, or in her eyes, practicing those tried-and-true methods he’d perfected all throughout middle school and high school and college and beyond when he’d look at her and find himself thinking things and wanting things that he shouldn’t, that steady mantra of _‘don’t be weird don’t be weird don’t be weird you can’t lose her don’t mess things up.’_

It doesn’t work. Like, at all.

He’d thought he was moving past this, but now that he knows what he knows and he’s seen what he’s seen, well…he really never stood a chance, did he? It’s honestly unbelievable, looking back, that the last time he talked to this Iris he was able to say _‘I love you’_ with a straight face, without making it weird, without that incessant undercurrent of ‘I’m _in_ love with you.’ 

If he were to say it now, he’d probably be tripping over himself, remembering that on another Earth, she’s said it _first._

“So tell me,” Iris’s voice pulls him out of his head – which is good, because dwelling on what he doesn’t have but _could_ have is really not a smart idea – and gives his shoulder a playful little shove. She grins at him like it’s Christmas and – not _that_ Christmas, he thinks frantically, resolutely shutting down that train of thought. Dear God, _why can’t his mind let him have nice things?_ “Did you meet the other me over there? What was I like? Other than awesome, of course. That’s a given.”

She winks at him. And, always managing the impossible, he promptly chokes on air.


End file.
